As August Ends

The second weekend here in Cork was fantastic. Friday night, we got home from the field trip around 9. We quickly changed and made it in time to The Qube for free admission. Michelle, Sarah and I had a great time dancing. Sarah, thankfully, acted as our body guard and warded away creepy men for the majority of the night.

Saturday, Mary, Michelle and I rose early in order to travel to Kinsale, a town in West Cork with a beautiful harbor. Upon arrival, we marveled at the sailboats in the water; the harbor was surrounded by green hills dotted with colorful houses. We went into the tourism office to get directions and post cards; then we began our walk through the city. There were a lot of neat little shops and the most adorable puppies in the pet store.... We shouldn't have gone in there. Getting hungry, we opted to take the advice of a classmate and ate at "Fishy, Fishy" a restaurant that, despite sounding like a kids place, was rather upscale and somewhat of a stretch for our budget. However, the prices were definitely reasonable for the quality and quantity of food. Besides, thinking ahead, we had packed lunches that we instead ate for dinner. I had a delicious salad with avocado, chickpeas, cucumbers, and two varieties of potato. Instead of having a potato side dish, we've noticed their meals often include two to three types of potatoes. (One of the poets who read last night actually had a line about this...) My dish had two variations and my friends both ordered fish and chips; thus they had a third kind. There were potato wedges lining my salad bowl and "crisped" potatoes acting in lieu of croûtons inside the salad; these were delicious, less crunchy and slightly thicker than potato chips. Apparently the restaurant where we ate is really well known, and the entire city is the "gourmet capital" of Ireland.

After lunch, we walked up the hill to Desmond Castle and joined a tour that had just begun. The castle was built to be used as a custom house in 1500, but has had a range of uses throughout its history, including acting as a prison for American sailors during our Revolutionary War. Furthermore, it is now also the site of the International Museum of Wine, which to our dismay, does not have tastings, because of the steep, uneven steps. The tour guide was too long-winded and kept promising he was almost done, but something always reminded him of an additional story. Reading the displays on my own would probably have been more interesting and informative. Nevertheless, it was an interesting site and I'm glad we saw it. On the second floor, there was an outdoor landing-type room where there was a well carved into the stone and hill below. A prisoner from Boston was held captive in that well during the Revolution. In the corner of the courtyard/room, I noticed a green tarp hanging but not fully covering an entrance to what appeared to be a tower. As I was curious, I moved the tarp aside to see if there was a stair case. I wasn't going to ascend it; I just wanted to see if it was indeed a tower. However, much to my shock and fright, something batted its wings far too close to my head and I yelled and bolted from the tarp. Apparently sea gulls roost in that tower, which is why they've covered it with a tarp....I think it needs something else to look more obviously off-limits. Thankfully no one else was on the landing except for my friends and one older couple. We were beginning to feel the exhaustion from the previous late night coupled with waking up too early and went off to find a cafe. After their coffee and my tea, we felt refreshed and continued looking in the shops until it was time to board the bus back to Cork.

Sunday I had planned to watch the last stage of the Tour of Ireland, as it took place in Cork City. Mark Cavendish, a US cyclist who won four stages in the Tour de France was riding in it. However, I was really tired and thankfully my friends were too; we all decided to just have a relaxing Sunday in doors. I ended up spending far too much time on my computer, as I became obsessed with reading study tips for the GRE and looking for opportunities for a spring internship. I found a few interesting publishing internships, but I'm really wary of working for a big firm after my experience with Universal Music Group. Preferably, I want to be a Research Assistant and emailed my Co-op and Career Services adviser asking if she's heard of any positions. It'd be amazing to work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the NYPL; the rare books division would be really interesting. Yet I digress once more.

In class on Monday, we began discussing Samuel Beckett's Murphy, which I really enjoy reading. We also received two old Irish poems in translation to read for the next class. That evening, Michelle, Mary and I went to a poetry reading in city center at the Hayloft, a small pub located in a room over a pub. It was amazing and I'm definitely going back next week. Considering I thought we were just going to hear one poet's reading, it exceeding all expectations. When we arrived, it was somewhat empty; we felt out of place and clearly looked out of place amongst the locals. Soon, however, the place began to fill in and the man in charge explained how the evenings consist of three parts: an opening exercise/competition, the guest reader and an open mic night. This was a surprise to us, but we were glad to participate! He asked for five words from the audience, and various people replied with rumble, flavor, light, hand and poke. After 15 minutes of writing, he asked for people to read. Michelle and I both did, along with many others. She ended up winning!
I like part of the poem I wrote in the quick challenge.

After a sojourn at the shore
your light hand grew tan,
gaining red flavor from late
summer's greedy sun.
While I instead
paled in Ireland.

The guest poet, Knute Skinner, is from the states, but has lived in Ireland since the 60s. I really enjoyed his poetry. Surprisingly I realized I knew a few of my poems by heart, and decided to read at the open mic portion. We were the youngest ones there, but everyone was really welcoming; the range in age from college students to men in their 70s made for a good mix of backgrounds and styles.

I did not enjoy the lecture today. It was about The Lament for Art O'Leary, which I didn't like when I first read and still don't like after the professor spoke about it. The poem was written down after being passed orally for generations, which explains some of the repetition, but it's too long and too repetitive. I am excited for tomorrow's lecture on a poem in translation called The Midnight Court by Bryan Merryman. It is a really bawdy and amusing story about how marriage is out of date and unnecessary, but was written in the 1700s!
I'm going to go lie down and continue my reading of Murphy.